


claws and horns and all

by the_ragnarok



Series: mage's intended [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Insomnia, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Squirting, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: Jon can't fall asleep. Good thing he has a handy monster boyfriend to help out.
Relationships: Jon Sims/Martin Blackwood
Series: mage's intended [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930360
Comments: 17
Kudos: 197





	claws and horns and all

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Hiri for brainstorming this with me and typo-catching!

They're eating in Jon's room, just the two of them. Jon asks for simpler fare than Magnus used to; "I grew up in the village," he said, shrugging, when the cook gave him odd looks.

Martin hardly minds. The food is delicious, baked fish and mashed potatoes and green beans, made even better by hunger. This is a late dinner, and a bit of a celebration: their first night where they could stop working in time for the meal, where no emergency demands their attention until they are near collapsing. Even so, it's been a long day, and the room is silent but for the clinking of their silverware.

Which is actual silver. Seeing his own paws grabbing it, wielding it to eat - it's an odd sight, but Martin tries not to dwell on that.

Instead, he watches Jon inhale his own meal with satisfaction. Seeing Jon eat, rest, be cared for - all of those feed something in Martin, a part long-starved despite the many years he'd spent serving others. He can't explain it.

Finally they're done. Martin puts their dishes outside for the servants to clear. He'd take them to the kitchen himself, but the servants are odd around him now that he's Jon's-- that he's Jon's. He doesn't want to make them uncomfortable, and it's not like there isn't plenty of work to be done by Jon's side. When Martin's back, Jon's already clad in sleep clothes, waiting in the bed.

Martin gulps and tries not to hyperventilate.

Jon insists that it's _their_ bed now, for as long as Martin wants it to be, which is the direct cause of the potential hyperventilation. They've shared it for a few nights now, but that mostly involved near-passing out late at night. Making a deliberate choice to come into Jon's bed, to sleep there, it's--

"Are you coming?" Jon demands. Martin huffs quiet laughter, the anxious spell broken, and climbs on the bed beside him.

Jon wastes no time shuffling over to Martin's side of the bed. Martin's heart pounds as he puts his arm around Jon, gathering him close. Jon's hair smells faintly sweet, a little sweaty; he'll want to wash it tomorrow, probably, but Martin cannot say he minds at all.

Having Jon next to him is such an odd mixture of soothing and exciting. With the day they've had - the month they've had, really - fatigue is winning, and Martin grows drowsier and drowsier. He's nearly asleep when Jon twitches in his grip.

Martin blinks awake. "What?"

Jon looks sheepish. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up." He squirms out of Martin's grasp. Martin's heart begins to pound - did he hurt Jon? Did he push, was he too forward? It gets worse when Jon moves to leave the bed.

"No, don't go," Martin blurts. "I'll go, you should have the bed." He'll find somewhere else.

Jon blinks at him, then squints. "Wait. I'm not leaving because I don't want to be next to you."

The relief is unfathomable. Martin can breathe again. "Why, then?" he says once he's caught his breath.

Jon looks irritable, hair in disarray. It's hopelessly endearing. "Can't sleep," he mutters. "Didn't want to keep you up."

Martin is immediately reminded of how he'd helped Jon sleep the last time he'd had difficulties. The sense memory is seared into his brain, white-hot. "Oh," Martin says weakly. He hesitates, but adds, "Do you want me to, um...?"

Jon's face clears. "Yes, please." Then he pauses. "Only if you want to."

Mouth watering, Martin says, "Trust me. I want to."

Jon's movements are tentative as he gets back into the bed, pausing to hike up the robe he sleeps in. He settles in with his legs spread, and Martin needs no further invitation.

To his delight, Jon's a little wet already with the first hints of arousal. He's still stubbornly shut, and Martin works on coaxing him to soften, licking around his opening, greedily chasing the taste of him.

Slowly but surely, Jon's body acquiesces, growing pliant enough that Martin can fuck him with his tongue. Jon's muscles clench tight around him, then abruptly relax. There's a little part in there, a bit with a different texture that makes Jon sigh and squirm when Martin hits it. _There_ it is, and with the tip of Martin's tongue pressed firmly there he hears Jon murmur appreciatively.

Martin's hips thrust, his cock hanging heavy and wanting. He could get a pillow to rut into, but there's something appealing in remaining like this, the sweet tease of focusing only on Jon's release. He licks Jon from the inside, gratified when Jon lets out a soft moan.

Making Jon come is quick and enjoyable. He gushes when he does, wetness dripping deliciously down Martin’s chin. Martin spends a guilty minute lapping it up, this evidence of Jon’s pleasure. 

“Wait,” Jon slurs. He’s profoundly relaxed, but even so he makes an effort to pull Martin up. Martin obeys. Maybe Jon wants to kiss him again. He’d like that.

What happens, though, is that as soon as Martin’s head is on the pillow, _Jon_ crawls lower in the bed, until he’s facing Martin’s erection.

“What,” Martin says, brain going as fast and as futile as a dog chasing its own tail.

“Shh, let me,” Jon says, and puts his mouth on the very tip of Martin’s cock.

The main reason Martin doesn’t come immediately is shock. Just the thought of Jon’s mouth on him, Gods, he wouldn’t have dared imagine that. It’s so good it _hurts_ , too much for his body to process, too much to believe. That anyone would do this, let alone _Jon_ \--

Who mumbles something, and lets out a snore, still mouthing Martin’s cock.

Martin pokes Jon in the shoulder. When he gets no response, Martin bursts into giggles. He gently pulls Jon back up. The sleepy grumbles Jon makes as Martin carefully disengages him from his cock are enough to make Martin’s heart burst. 

He probably won’t come tonight. But he has Jon clinging to him, heedless of Martin’s hard cock so close to his vulnerable parts - or no, not heedless. Not minding. Feeling safe enough to sleep next to him, claws and horns and all, bestial arousal or not. 

Martin nuzzles Jon’s hair and holds him, grateful for the ache of his own desire, letting him know he isn’t dreaming or imagining any of this.


End file.
